


Glass

by wishyouweresober



Series: glass. [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Binge Eating Disorder, Depression, Eating Disorders, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Sad very sad this is a vent fic ok bye, Theres no fluff at all, broken relationship, like at all, plz dont read if suffering or recovering from an ed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishyouweresober/pseuds/wishyouweresober
Summary: an eating disorder destroyed all that alexander hamilton had. and all for a path to a perfection that never existed.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Series: glass. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037184
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Glass

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DONT READ THIS IF TRIGGERED BY ANY OF THE FOLLOWING  
> TW////  
> \- eating disorder  
> \- anorexia  
> \- BED  
> \- EDNOS  
> \- comas  
> \- hospitals  
> \- depression
> 
> i love yall sm and im sorry for this rant fic  
> hope u enjoy, and stay safe!!!!

It was January 14th, and Alexander Hamilton never wanted to eat again. Grease dripped from their folded pizza down to the plate, orange and thick and  _ filled _ with fat and calories. Alex swallowed sharply at the mere sight of it, barely noticing the chatter around him. His world zoned in, focused on the steady  _ drip, drip, drip  _ of the oil. He heard his name, but his mouth felt unwilling to open. He tore his eyes away from the offending display, forcing a tight-lipped smile onto his face at the sight of concerned eyes.

"Everything alright? Are you hungry?" There it was. Alexander felt dumbfounded.  _ Was _ he? He couldn't tell at this point. He knew that he felt dizzy and that the world seemed dull. But was he hungry? He didn't  _ want _ to eat. But at the same time... His eyes shifted to the thin fingers of his friends that had streaks of grease running down them, mesmerizing but appalling at the same time. At this point, he knew they were all staring in confusion. 

His boyfriend sat pressed against him in the booth, gently placing a hand on his leg in concern. Thomas's hands were small against the large spread of his thighs.

_ Reply, Alexander. Answer. _ "Uh, no. Thanks." Was that a lie? 

He returned to his dorm around 9 P.M. that night, his hands shaky in the pale moonlight that flowed in through the small window in his dorm. In the lighting, his fingers almost looked gaunt. And then when he stepped forward, closer toward his bed and away from the bright light, all he saw was  _ fat, fat, fat. _

As if appearing out of nowhere, the full-body mirror in front of him displayed fat spilling out from the small space where his stomach was revealed. He had known it wasn't smart to wear a cropped shirt that day, but Hercules had insisted, claiming the top looked  _ perfect  _ on him. He had almost believed the taller man when in his studio when he had not yet drunk or eaten. 

As he stood here now, eyes boring into the pudges of fat revealed- the shirt didn't look perfect. Or, maybe it was him. 

_ Yes... _ It was him. His legs seemed wider than he recalled, the pale blue of his jeans stretched tightly and fat spilling out the small rips. 

Suddenly he felt nauseated, his stomach empty and in discomfort. And although he didn't believe this to be hunger, he felt his legs carrying him to the small crate of snacks that he accumulated throughout the semester. He grabbed before he looked, running to his closet and tearing off his jeans as tears streamed down his face. When had he begun crying? Once he had yanked his boyfriend's dark blue sweatpants that he'd stolen sometime earlier in the year, he slid down the wall to the floor and began unwrapping the snacks and shoveling them in his mouth.

But the empty feeling in his stomach prevailed, and while a  _ month _ ago he'd felt something akin to fullness by now- he couldn't seem to tell the difference.

Before he knew it, he had finished **4,369** calories worth of food. 

_ But who was counting? _

It was March 1st, and everything felt horrible. Alexander had always had an obsessive personality, latching onto one thing for months at a time and rarely straying. This, combined with his new habits, were cause for destruction. At least, according to the current pain in his stomach. A fresh small bottle of pink pills was resting peacefully on his bathroom counter, Alex having swallowed 2 more pills than permitted. It was fine, though. They'd began to lose their effects after months of usage.

His weight hadn't dropped much, seeming to shoot up and down in sharp spikes.

There had been a week... The week previous, actually, where he swore he was better. He ate full meals, perhaps more, with little guilt. With  _ enjoyment. _ Thomas had just left for Monticello after an event with his family, Alex left lonely and isolated in his dorm.

A month ago, he might've simply gone out to see his friends.

_ He didn't do that much anymore. _

And so he  _ ate and ate and- _

His weight had gone up roughly 12 pounds. He found he gained weight at a much quicker rate now.

And so there he sat, waiting on his bathroom floor in agony as the pills churned his stomach. Cold sweat dripped down his face as he couldn't decide if a blanket would make him feel better or worse.

Was it possible to feel worse?

It was April 2nd, and Alexander had felt jealousy, but never before had it twisted to hatred. Thomas arrived home only a week before some short break that Alex couldn't remember the meaning of, all bright smiles and tender eyes. Alexander wanted to return the affection as Thomas hugged and kissed him, but all he could focus on was the sharp turn of his boyfriend's cheekbones. Followed by his thin, muscular legs wrapped tightly in blue jeans. He donned a  _ skin-tight  _ black shirt,  _ perfectly  _ accenting the  _ perfect _ chest and his  _ perfect _ abs.

God, Alexander wanted to be perfect.

And Thomas was still hugging him, in obvious relief at seeing the smaller boy. Alex had never been more disgusted with himself, feelings of jealousy morphing into near hatred, and anger at Thomas's return.

It was April 17th, and Alexander felt hideous. He and Thomas had always been a rather tactile couple, but he couldn't find himself in the mood to strip and show Thomas  _ everything _ . He would be disgusted. He would  _ leave  _ him, no doubt.

And so whenever he found himself longing to feel the comfort of another body, his boyfriend in the same state, he could only smile and drop to his knees.

It was May 1st, and he wanted to be  _ perfect. _

It was May 20th, and Alexander didn't believe in perfect anymore. ' _ Perfect'  _ was unachievable. For him, at least.  _ 'Perfect' _ could not be forced. No matter how hard he tried... 

It was July 30th, and Alex had lost 37 pounds. It had taken a while, granted. And as he stared in the same full-body mirror as he had months ago, he saw giant thighs and a chubby, scarred stomach. 

It was August 5th, and Thomas didn't seem happy anymore. His bright brown eyes had drooped, the warm vibrancy fading. Alexander didn't understand. He was happier. At least, he thought he was happier. As he watched the numbers get lower and lower, he felt satisfaction spread through him, and that felt close enough to happiness.

He'd questioned Thomas on his lack of happiness, curled up against his side-  _ Thomas had proposed he lay on top of him, but Alex didn't want to crush him-  _ as Thomas shook with sobs. Alexander reached up, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb and offering a small, fake smile. " Why aren't you happy, Thomas? I'm happy."

Thomas didn't reply for a moment, his eyes narrowing and searching his boyfriend's face. "I  _ miss  _ you, Alex."

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "I'm right here,  _ stupid _ ." His voice was light and teasing, but then Thomas abruptly shot out of the bed. 

" _ Are you? _ I can't even tell anymore," his voice cracked pathetically, " _ God,  _ Alex! I  _ miss  _ you!"

"Tommy, wait-"

" _ No _ ! I can't sit here and watch you kill yourself anymore! You need  _ help!  _ I'm tired of being fucking  _ horrified _ because the love of my life looks on the  _ brink of fucking death!" _ Alexander gasped, his heart protesting with a strange series of irregular pounds. "I'm sitting here and watching you destroy yourself!"

Somewhere within Thomas's speech, Alex felt his heartbeat flutter, making him gasp for air. This effort only seemed to worsen the issue, but the taller man hadn't yet noticed.

Thomas's voice faded in and out of his ears, bits and pieces of shouting catching his ears. "... I  _ can't _ do it... Alex, it's... Hey!". Suddenly, Thomas's hands were holding him up as he nearly fell off the bed, his dark brown eyes boring into his.

"I-I'm  _ fine," _ Alexander tried to insist. But his body betrayed him, collapsing forward into Thomas's  _ perfect _ chest. By the time he awoke, Thomas was standing in his bathroom, clutching a small bottle of pink pills. Tears steadily dripped down his face.

It was August 28th, and Alex felt like he was getting closer to perfection. Closer, but still out of reach. His boyfriend had begun to swarm him constantly, hovering over him like a cloud. He'd already expressed his distaste at the parenting, but it seemed as if Thomas was terrified to leave him alone.

But Thomas couldn't be with him every second of the day. And Alexander could  _ lie _ . A childhood of trauma had introduced that talent.

And so it was August 28th, and Alexander noticed that his fingertips appeared almost... blue. Thomas had been holding his hand that night, his dark skin contrasting strangely with the color. And Thomas hadn't said anything when he noticed. But Alexander could feel his sharp intake of breath, and he nearly felt a strange pride. 

Thomas carded his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, which had become thin and brittle. A muted red rested where a vibrant one once had. But despite the dry feeling, Thomas still felt the need to touch Alex. Make sure he was still there. That he hadn't disappeared. This Alex seemed like a mere figment of his imagination. This couldn't be his Alex.

But when Thomas's fingers returned to the top of his head with a clump of hair, blinking didn't make it disappear.

It was September 8th, and Alexander regret having distanced himself from his friends. At least, for most of that night. They were all pressed into that same restaurant they had months ago. January, he believed. Right after his birthday. Thomas had hogged him for a long celebration. He'd desperately avoided restaurants since his...  _ journey  _ began. Despite Thomas's and his friends' many attempts at changing this. 

It seemed mainly the same, except they had migrated to a smaller table. Angelica had graduated, her boyfriend John Church leaving along with her. The table felt slightly empty without her, but he had a feeling it would work out.

The night had gone as usual for the most part, eating and talking and drinking. Well, they were. He picked at the small side salad in front of him, taking bites when necessary. His weight had dropped to a number he'd previously thought impossible, and he wasn't about to ruin it by eating more than his designated amount of calories.

But then the conversation had shifted from whatever it was they had been chatting about, to  _ him. _

"Alex, it's been a while. How... How are you?" Eliza's warm voice filled his ears, a sound well missed in the past few months.

"I'm," he cleared his throat. He'd not been feeling well for a few days, but he was sure it would go away. "Okay. I'm okay. You?"

"Fine... I didn't want to do this but..." Eliza cut herself off, glancing around the table in a manner that resembled desperation.

That's when John spoke up, the only one Alex had conversated with in a long time. "We're concerned, Lex. You don't seem 'good'."

Alexander shook his head and scoffed lightly, "You told them to do this, didn't you." He demanded from Thomas, who simply glanced away and shrugged.

"I didn't but I'm just as concerned, Lexi. We  _ all  _ are. You need  _ help _ , darling."

"I don't need  _ help _ . But I'm not gonna stay here if it's just some intervention. So is it?" 

The table was silent, and Alexander found himself focused on a platter placed in front of Peggy. Greasy,  _ greasy  _ fries and an abnormally large burger sat next to each other. He felt taunted by the sight. 

He could see the grease in his vision then, dripping from the fries and the burger down to the plate in a disgusting manner.

And as he snapped out of his daze, and looked up, he felt as if he were back in January. Eyes on him, filled with concern... But this time, there seemed to be no confusion. They all seemed to know  _ too much _ instead.

Alexander went home that night and shoved candy bars in his mouth before he'd even realized it.

It was fine though, because a few moments later he was kneeling in front of the toilet.

And he felt  _ clean _ .

It was September 29th, and Alexander noticed more and more people recognizing his efforts. He felt small, pressed against Thomas for stability and warmth as they walked to class.

He knew, deep in the back of his mind, that the distance between them would be larger than ever if not for him requiring the support.

Upon arriving at his lecture, eyes staring at him was his greeting. People seemed to stare, some sort of emotion plastered on their faces.

Mr. Washington himself had approached him following the end of the lecture, with disquieted eyes and a troubled expression. It had taken Alexander a moment to leave his seat, Thomas offering a hand to help the feeble 20-year-old up. 

He placed a hand on Alex's shoulder as he had many times apprehensively, glancing at Thomas where he was still stood next to his boyfriend.  _ Holding his boyfriend upright. _

"Son... Is everything alright?"

Alexander exhaled exasperatedly through his nose, "Yes... Everything's fine. Why?" He had grown tired of hearing this question, a burning voice in his mind hissing that they were all just  _ jealous. _

"You should take a few weeks off. I believe you're unwell. You're well ahead in the work, I'm sure."

"Sir, with all due respect, I can't. I won't."

"It's not a suggestion, Alexander." And Washington's voice expressed that the conversation was over, walking away from a disgruntled Alexander, and a man who seemed very far away.

It was October 14th, and Alexander thought he was ready to be intimate with Thomas. Thomas was laid on his bed, staring at his boyfriend in the same way he had for the past few months. There seemed to be no love there, at least not any that Alex could see.

But he could make Thomas love him.

He'd done this  _ all _ for Thomas. 

He  _ needed _ Thomas to love him again.

Thomas seemed shocked when Alexander reached to kiss him, making a sound of confusion initially. Alex pulled away, fearing rejection, but after a moment's stare, Thomas pressed his lips to his own again.

The gaunt man tried to express his desire by pressing his hips against the other's desperately, but his boyfriend moved slowly. Gently, as if he were about to break.

Alexander felt fragile.  _ Perfect _ , almost.

"Hey, I'm not made of glass, Tommy." His voice was a raspy whisper, having lost its previous strength.

Thomas merely gazed at him for a second, and then he was pressing his lips roughly to the redhead's. They moved so familiarly that Alex felt as if it were December of the previous year again, sharp motions and rough fingers. But then Thomas had removed Alex's shirt.

And he stopped. He portrayed no change in emotion, simply staring down at the body before him in... Alexander couldn't quite tell.

He hoped it was desire, or want, or  _ need _ . It had taken him months upon months, and he still hadn't quite arrived at perfection- but he knew that he was  _ getting there. _ He was so close-  _ but he'd been 'so close' for about two months now.  _

Hands trailed down his tiny waist and skimmed over his fragile and evident bones. Alex could feel the mood shifting, moving a hand to weakly grasp onto Thomas's, attempting to pull them away and to better places. But Thomas only grabbed his wrist-  _ lightly, delicately-  _ and looked down at him in silence.

Alex whined, knowing he must've looked horrible from the angle at which his boyfriend rested. He could practically see his chubby under-chin and cheeks himself, and so brought his free hand to cover as much of his face as possible.

Silence, strong and cold and- "We... I don't think we should, tonight. No... Not tonight, Lexi." Thomas's voice barely scraped by as a whisper. It sounded broken, sad, and  _ horrified. _

Alexander had never felt more humiliated or  _ disgusting  _ in his life than when Thomas was putting on his shoes and leaving his dorm that night, right after rejecting him. As if to ensure that Alexander's repugnant _ , fat body _ wasn't near him. 

It was November 1st, and Alex had lost 9 more pounds, just to be safe. Losing weight only got harder and harder as time went on. At this point, he found himself rarely able to leave his bed. His work was long forgotten, teachers seemingly scared to assign him things to do anyway. 

Recently, he felt as if he was missing out on some larger conversation with  _ everyone else  _ in his life.

He knew that something was distracting Thomas, judging by the way that he had spoken few words to him the past week. That wasn't to say he didn't spend time with him. No, his 'boyfriend' still remained at his dorm as often as possible, sometimes accompanied by people such as Lafayette or James Madison. Alex liked it when he brought other people. After all, he had worked  _ so god-damn  _ hard, and now no one got to see. 

He'd done it all for Thomas.

But Thomas didn't seem to want it  _ or care. _

It was November 23rd, at least Alexander thought it was. And Thomas was sat at Alexander's cold wooden desk, one that was inappropriately clean and tidy. Alexander's weak voice barely reached his ears, "Thomas, Thomas,  _ please. _ Look at me?  _ Please.  _ I just want you to love me again. Just  _ look at me. _ " But the voice was barely a whimper, and Thomas only looked at Alex when he heard him curse, attempting to push himself out of his bed on weak and fragile arms.  _ It was worse than he'd remembered. _

Thomas saw a flash of Alexander standing before it happened. He looked on the brink of death. Every bone jutted out in a sickening way, visible through even his baggy sweatpants and  _ Thomas's _ large shirt. His hair was matted and thin. His  _ eyes, _ once vibrantly violet-blue, were dark and dull.

In a mere second, Alex was crumpled on the floor and for a moment Thomas was worried he'd shatter like glass.

It was December 3rd, and the hospital rooms here were cold. But that was fine, Thomas knew, because Alexander hadn't awoken from his coma yet to feel it.

It was December 29th, and the first thing Alex thought upon opening his eyes for the first time in a month was that he never wanted to eat again.


End file.
